


Melting Like Marshmallows

by forestofsecrets



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Indirect Kiss, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestofsecrets/pseuds/forestofsecrets
Summary: You're working late and Camus decides to join you. He brings tea, for you, and hot chocolate, for himself.





	Melting Like Marshmallows

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even drink tea.
> 
> Made on 12/20/2018.

The chair was creaking as Reiji rocked on it, annoying the other three members of Quartet Night. Camus exhaled loudly, Ai was staring unblinkingly at Reiji in an attempt to convey his irritation, and Ranmaru was this close to smacking Reiji upside the head.

Due to the fact that Reiji was scrolling on his phone, however, he missed all of these danger signals. A message must have caught his attention as his rocking came to halt, much to the relief of everyone in the room.

“Looks like our composer is working hard!” Reiji turned his phone to the others so that they were able to see the picture that he was referencing. It was a picture that showed a music sheet, some pencils, and a pair of headphones. He turned his phone back towards himself to read the post out loud. “Another long night tonight. Hopefully I can finish this before Christmas! Christmas tree emoji.”

A glance at the clock told Camus that it was well into the evening, the sun having long turned in for the night. He sighed and stood, resulting in Reiji commenting on it as Reiji must comment on everything.

“Where’re you going, Myu-myu?” That incessant creaking had begun once more. Reiji obviously saw no fault in assaulting their ears with such an abrasive sound.

Camus huffed, as if that was worth answering. “None of your business, Kotobuki.” He left Ranmaru and Ai to face the creaking alone.

You tapped your pencil against the paper in a rhythmic beat. This part just wasn’t coming as easily as you wanted it. It was an integral part of the chorus too, something that would repeat throughout the song. Your tapping nearly masked the light knocking at the door.

Opening it revealed Camus, holding two mugs. There was no greeting or explanation as he walked past you and into your room. This was unexpected, to say the least. You were left to close the door after his entrance.

There were a number of questions running through your mind at his actions. You had grown used to his attitude by now, though you were still often left stunned by his insensitivity. Mainly, you were wondering what had summoned him to your room at such a late hour. Camus usually didn’t go out of his way for anyone. He wasn’t sick, was he?

“Why are you still standing around?” His authoritative tone snapped. It would seem he had found a seat for himself by your desk. “I have come to join you.”

The only thing you could do was walk back over to your desk and reclaim your chair. There was a new addition; a steaming hot mug of what looked like a dark coloured tea. A sip confirmed that, a familiar taste of cocoa filled your mouth.

You motioned to his own mug. “You were making tea?” And he thought to bring you some. That was strangely affectionate. Almost too affectionate. Perhaps the other members of Quartet Night had a hand in this.

“There is only one proper drink for a cold winter’s night. This is hot chocolate filled with marshmallows.” His own mug was dark and steaming. If he hadn’t told you, you could have sworn that they were the same. So he had went out of his way but refuses to admit it, hmm? You would take the tea regardless. He had managed to get your favourite kind, something you were starting to think was no accident.

Camus pulled out a small book, a relief to you. There was no possible way you could work with him watching you the entire time. Your attention was turned back towards your work. After a few more trial runs, it was starting to come together. You were not about to credit it to Camus, however, so maybe the tea helped. You sipped it until it was gone.

As the night passed on, you found yourself nearly nodding off more than once. Your handwriting was getting sloppy, smudging parts of the paper. You reached a free hand over to your mug, groping blindly for a handle. The very sweet, very cold taste being a wake-up alarm for you. Your own thoughts caught up to you too late. You had already finished your tea. It was nowhere near this sweet. Then…?

You steal a glance over at Camus. The only sign you had that he was still awake all this time was the occasional turn of a page. The smirk on his face made you aware that he had seen your blunder.

You were just going to blame it on your drowsiness in the morning.


End file.
